


Baby Doll

by applejuice_motherfucker



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/F, Fem!Dave, Fingerfucking, Rule 63, sis - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2013-05-20
Packaged: 2017-12-12 09:05:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/809811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/applejuice_motherfucker/pseuds/applejuice_motherfucker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You can see yourself in her shades, its unnerving, and when she tilts her head, like she's appraising you or some shit, it makes your stomach flutter with tension.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby Doll

“Still can't believe this bullshit. Why not just send me to a school with uniforms? Then you'd get to fag all over me everyday.”

“Too much of a good thing, baby girl. Though, now I'm seeing you all dolled up like this I'm reconsidering...”

“You'd actually do it, wouldn't you? You'd actually pull me out of school halfway through a semester and send me to that Catholic prison the next town over just to see me in their gross ass polyester costume every morning. I bet you would.”

The skirt itself is no shorter than any you've worn before, though the shirt is a little tight, and the bow around your neck feels like its choking you. You should have tied it yourself, but she always did like dressing you up. She smirks, and you glare, glancing at your shades on the coffee table, sitting pretty beside her bare crossed feet.

“Nah. Schools important, or whatever. Plus, I've seen that mess they call a uniform, it ain't got shit on this thing. Red suits ya, girl, but purple hella don't.”

“Just 'cause you read Marie Claire in the doctors office that one time doesn't make you a fuckin' fashionista, y'know...” you grumble, turning here and there to catch yourself in the mirror beside you. You'll admit that you look good, but not to her face. She's already too pumped up from beating you in that strife earlier on; a reinforced ego would probably be the end of you.

“Whatever, I'm saying you're cute, learn to take a compliment already.” Her beer is finished, and the bottle clinks on the glass of the table, the signal for a new one and your queue to fetch it. Bending is an issue, and of course she set the crate right at the bottom of the fucking fridge, didn't she. With a groan you stand straight, holding the bottle out to her as you walk back, ignoring her bitten lip and her tiny smirk. “So, you like it?”

“Do I like it?” Yes. “No. It sucks.”

“C'mere.”

She doesn't move, doesn't make room for you at all, doesn't even bring her feet down from the table to let you pass. So you kick a leg over hers, standing with one either side of her, forcing her to stare up at you, hands on your hips as if you feel a single shred of confidence. She drinks her beer, dragging her eyes up your legs to the edge of your skirt. You can see yourself in her shades, its unnerving, and when she tilts her head, like she's appraising you or some shit, it makes your stomach flutter with tension.

“Lemme see...” she murmurs, lifting her chin just a fraction, resting a hand on your outer leg, thumb stroking in little circles that should be a comfort instead of a distraction. You want to protest, you want to tell her to go fuck herself, that you're tired and beat up and this is fucking ridiculous, but somehow you fold, pinching the hem of the skirt between both thumbs and forefingers, and lifting the vile thing as slow as you can manage. “Oh, that's pretty...”

“You're such a creep...” you mumble into your own shoulder, too anxious to even look at her face as her hand strokes upward, presses a finger against the little bow at the rim of your panties. She smiles, leaning forward only to set her beer on the floor, but licking a little kiss to your hip in the process.

“I ain't the one who's soakin' herself through, am I?” she asks with that sweet voice she uses to convince you to massage her feet, her finger trailing down to rub at you through the wet, white cotton, and you bite your lip against the little noise that threatens to slip out.

“I bet you are,” you say quietly, flicking your eyes to her face just in time to catch her raised eyebrow. Her finger moves harder, starting to move in small circles, and you do moan now, clenching your fingers in the fabric of the skirt, bunching it up in your fists.

After a moment she stops, hooking her fingers in the edge of your panties and dragging them down to your knees, stretching them wide between your legs. Then she settles back again, bringing her hand to her lips to lick at her finger, suck it in, watch your thighs quiver and your cheeks flush. She's intimidating, yes, but the fact she's still smiling is worse. She enjoys putting you on edge, building you up to knock you down again, sweep you off your feet with some bullshit over the top maneuver that leaves you blinded and breathless.

“Shit, you're cute...” she murmurs, reaching back out, smoothing her leg up your inner thigh to feel just how wet you've become just from her watching you. Her other hand grips at your ass, pulls you forward until you're straddling her hips, knees biting into the couch cushion as you gasp and lose your grip on the skirt. Her hands freeze, refusing to move until you lift it back up, so you do. “Heh, you're good at this, ain't you...”

She jerks you forward, crushes a sinking kiss to your lips as her fingers spread along your slit, rubbing at the small folds of wet skin, thumb circling at your clit in easy little strokes. You tingle everywhere, biting gently at her lip as you groan, and she sinks two fingers in, squirming them deep and twisting to force her name from your throat. Her thumb speeds up, swiping across, pressing harder with each turn as she thrusts her fingers deeper, and you lose control, hands flying to her shoulders to grip and whine against her neck.

“What a good girl...” she mutters in your ear, slapping her free hand against your ass with a little more bite than you expected, squeezing and massaging the skin to ease the sting. “You look so damn cute.” You moan, sucking at her neck, her fingers pulling out to tease at your entrance, a third added when she slips slowly back inside. “Bet you could have any boy you wanted at school, huh? Any girl?” Her name spills from your mouth as her hand works faster, pulling back to finger at your clit, hard and wet, making you almost scream before she pushes back in, your tongue painting her shoulder through her polo shirt, tugging with your teeth. Her fingers wiggle inside you, fucking you hard as her wrist flicks with each turn, her thumb on your clit pressing harder, friction building until she's practically vibrating it against you. “But they don't know that you already got someone, do they? Or, someone's got you.”

Her voice is torture, she sounds like smoke, and each hot, wet noise her hand makes between your legs only amplifying the things that she's saying.

“They don't know that you like to dress up for me, do they? That you beg to eat me out, for me to fuck you like this.” Her hand speeds up, and she smacks you again for good measure, and fuck, you can feel it building in you, your fingers curling in her shirt, and if she tells you not to come you know you won't be able to obey. “None of them know how fucking wet you get when I tell you to fuck me with your sweet little tongue, hm? What about when you climb up and sit on my face, huh? You like feeling my tongue in you, baby?”

You want to say yes, you want to say anything, but words are ridiculously hard, and when she brushes a free finger against your ass, prods so lightly that you can barely feel it, her fingers drawing back to tickle your clit again, you lose. Your head falls back and she attacks your throat, sucking a wet kiss as her fingers fuck you through your orgasm, your hips rising and falling with each twitch and pulse she drags from you. She feels so fucking good inside you, her fingers twisting just right, rubbing in all the right ways. You can't breathe for a moment, your heart hammering, head clouded as she withdraws and rubs at the small of your back, pressing a kiss to your temple. You can still feel each little shock rocking through you, and you whine around each one, rocking your hips slowly into hers as she shushes you down softly.

“You good?” She licks at your ear to punctuate the question, and you shiver, nodding faintly, curling your arms tighter around her neck. “Good. Now get on the floor and finish the job.”

Fucking bitch never lets you cuddle when you want to.

With a resigned groan you flop, feeling her feet drop from the table, and you slide back off her legs to position yourself on the floor between them. There's a damp spot from where you were sitting in her lap and she smirks a little wider when you press a hand to it, blushing from both embarrassment and something close to pride. Her legs spread wider, black shorts tight around her hips, leaving nothing to the imagination as you lean in and press your mouth to her, tongue dragging across the fabric. You were right, she's already wet, and she slithers a hand in your hair, grinding her hips up a little, alternating with the motion of your tongue.

You hate these shorts, they always cling to her so tight that removing them is nigh impossible, and she doesn't even move to help you as you attempt to drag them down. They won't budge, stick firm under her ass, and its only when you suck at her through them that she shifts and wiggles out of them.

As soon as you remove them you lean in again, letting them dangle off her ankle, your hands spread on her thighs to let you in closer, your tongue tracing over her labia, lips closing around her clit and she moans as you suck, flattening your tongue and licking as you pull back. Her fingers tighten in you hair, the same fingers that were just fucking you, and you push your tongue inside her, moaning low to vibrate through her. Your eyes flick up; her head is resting back, her lip between her teeth, and god _damn_ she's still fucking smiling.

“Damn you're good at that, kid...”

She's right, of course, and you thrust your tongue in shallow little jabs, bringing a hand up to thumb at her clit. Her grip tenses, her hips rocking up to meet you in little pulses, and she sucks a gasp in between gritted teeth when you switch, pushing two fingers inside her.

You speed up, scissoring your fingers as you push them in and out, twisting your hand to press up and she jerks, her legs rising, spreading even further, her hand losing its grip in your hair for a moment. She melts, releasing a string of little moans, smiling around each one. “Fuck yeah, that's it. God damn, girl, fuckin' right there...”

You amp it up, throwing in the force of your elbow, mouthing and kissing along her hip bone, rubbing her clit in hard circles with your other thumb, adding another finger when she hooks her leg over your shoulder and bites her knuckles with a breathy giggle.

She's close, she's twitching around you, and it only takes a flick of your wrist, a little wiggle of your fingers, a little suck of your tongue against her to make her cry out, head falling back as her hips rise and fall as you fuck her. Her grasp doesn't let up, even after she calms down, breathing deep and heavy, dazed and flopped back on the couch. You have to swat her hand away, shrug her leg off of you before you can climb up and settle back in her lap.

“I hate this thing,” you mumble, unbuttoning the shirt, tearing the stupid ribbon from your neck and breathing again. She grins, gripping your face to squish your cheeks, an arm wrapping around your waist to cradle you into her chest.

“Well, I like it, so it stays,” she slurs, tapping at your ass once more, gently this time, and you grumble a few little meaningless protests as you sink in and stop caring. “'Sides you're a terrible liar, you love it.”

“Prove it.”

“I just did, angel.”

“Bitch.”


End file.
